


Fog, Orange Hues and Face Tattoos

by QueenNeehola



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Tutor AU, one mention of phog being bullied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNeehola/pseuds/QueenNeehola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phog is a new high-school tutor, and his first ever student is late.  Then in bursts a loud, brash guy with a face tattoo...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fog, Orange Hues and Face Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry the title is a mess, it rhymes tho! i hate titling fics
> 
> anyway i saw a prompt on tumblr like "we're both tutors and each think the other is our student but in reality our students bailed on us and it's a case of mistaken identity but hey, it was pretty fun"....i lost the page but if i ever find it again i will defo link it!
> 
> this is lowkey dedicated to stephy/ao3 user talonyth bc i dragged her into this ship
> 
> also: please consider yelv/phog, i'm dyin here

The library was quiet, just the way Phog liked it.  Through the window he watched the students file lethargically out of the school building, the low, late afternoon sun illuminating their surroundings orange and making their shadows into gross, elongated caricatures creeping out behind them.

Some people lingered in the library, checking out and returning books and study materials, but as exam season had passed the room was mostly empty.  Eventually only a few students, most wearing prefect badges, remained, seated at separate tables alongside underclassmen, and Phog immediately placed them as tutors with their assigned students.

He checked the clock for the umpteenth time, disheartened when it had only been two minutes since he had last looked.  Still, his own student was already ten minutes late…

 

As a brand new tutor—the student he was waiting for would be his first, in fact—Phog wanted to make a good impression, but his nerves had him fidgeting in place and fingering the strap of his messenger bag.  His friend, Hope, a tutor herself, had convinced him to sign up, advocating his patience and gentle nature befitting a tutor to a younger student.  He hadn’t the heart to tell her his patience stemmed mostly from hesitance and his gentleness from anxiety.

 

 

The library door opened suddenly—and very forcefully, causing it to bounce off the adjacent wall with a loud slam as a newcomer strode into the room.

Startled by the noise, Phog jumped, fright causing his heart to beat erratically in his chest and blood to rush to his cheeks with the thought of being seen reacting like a small animal to a loud sound.  However, his embarrassment lessened as he realised everyone’s eyes were not on him, but on the student now standing by the librarian’s desk, leaning casually against it as the librarian herself gave him an earful.

“Yelv, I’ve _told_ you before about this!” Phog heard her hiss.  “You walk in late and cause a scene _every time_ —”

The world _late_ set off alarm bells in Phog’s head, and he suddenly couldn’t hear her words, or anything else for that matter, any more.  His world became a silent, closed-off bubble in a flash, accompanied by the sick twisting in the base of his gut he recognised as his near-constant companion, panic.   _Surely not..._

Yelv turned his back on the librarian, and for the first time Phog noticed the tattoo under his right eye, an elaborate pattern drawn in dark ink.  Some students had the odd tattoo, but Phog had never seen one quite so visible and daring before, and the more he looked the more it seemed to move on Yelv’s skin with every change in his expression, as if it were a living part of him: it stretched with his cheek as he smiled and waved at someone across the room, folded into the mirth lines at his eye as he laughed off the librarian’s scolding.  Phog belatedly realised he was staring, and staring was rude, and he probably should not be staring, he should be looking over his study notes (again) for when his student arrived, gosh they were _late_ —

It was at this point that Phog realised, again too late, that he was _still_ staring, and that the piercing green eyes above Yelv’s tattoo were now staring back.

                                                                                                                            

In a few long strides that Phog couldn’t quite keep up with, Yelv was suddenly in front of him, dizzyingly close.  Great, _now_ everyone’s eyes were on him.

Phog took an instinctive, stumbling step in retreat, but the back of his thighs met with a table and heat flared across his cheeks and nose all at once.

“You the new guy?” Yelv said.  His voice was naturally rough, expression neutral-verging-on-unpleasant, words void of respect, and what had previously been only a suspicion on Phog’s part was cemented into certainty with all the weight of a brick dropping into his stomach.

 _This_ had to be his assigned student.

 

 

Eventually, Phog remembered to nod.  He was the tutor, after all.  He couldn’t let himself be intimidated by his own student.  In fact, he supposed, he shouldn’t really be surprised he’d been assigned someone like… _this_.  Struggling students were often the…less well-mannered types.

“M-My name’s Phog,” he said.  Introductions were always a good start.

Yelv seemed to examine him for a moment, and Phog grew flustered and looked away under the intense stare.

“Like the weather?” came the eventual response, and Phog’s heart sank.  He’d heard it a thousand times, been teased for it a thousand and one.

No point debating it.  “Yes…   but with a P-H instead of an F…”

“Huh.”  Phog waited for the laughter, the usual response.  It never came.  “I’m Yelv.”  Phog looked up then, in a state of mild shock, to be quite honest.  But Yelv didn’t look at him, just walked by him and pulled out a chair.  “Now siddown, and let’s get it done.”

 

 

The library went back to normal as Phog and Yelv were seated, the awkward silence finally making way for the usual hushed chatter between the students.  Phog produced a small ringbinder, complete with colourful post-its protruding from every second page, from his bag, while Yelv procured a single pen from…somewhere, twirling it between his fingers as he leaned back in his chair.  His eyebrows rose at Phog’s folder.

“You bring your own notes?” he asked.

“Oh.  Um, yes,” Phog replied, suddenly feeling awkward.  “Is that not…usual?”

There was that long, measured look from Yelv again, like he was sizing Phog up, and again Phog looked away, down at his notes.  “Not really,” Yelv said.  “They’re never that organised.”

“I…see.”  Yelv must have gone through a lot of tutors, Phog thought, if he had enough experience with them to make an observation like that.  A problem child.

“So,” and now Yelv was leaning forward, elbows on the table, still twirling his pen, “what’re we doin’?”

Phog made the mistake of making eye contact and _wow_ , his eyes were _really_ green—  “I, I was thinking I should be the one asking that.”

“Uh, well…it’s really more up to you…  I ain’t so good at maths, though.”

“Then, maths it is…?”  It was a hesitant suggestion, but Phog felt very faintly confident.  He was pretty good at maths.

“Huh?  Weren’t you listenin’?”  Phog suddenly found Yelv’s pen pointed accusingly between his eyes, and his hint of confidence vanished in a puff of smoke.  “I said I _ain’t good_ at maths.  Pick somethin’ else.”

Phog felt himself clam up, and he dug his nails into his palms under the table.  Why did his first student have to be a delinquent…?

“I…I thought,” Phog said, forcing the words out, “the point of these groups was to improve on subjects you’re not good at—”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Yelv concurred, and he was leaning back again, far _far_ away from Phog’s personal bubble, thank god.  “And I ain’t good at maths, so pick somethin’ _else_.”  He shoved the end of his pen in his mouth to punctuate his point, folding his arms behind his head in a show of nonchalance.

“Then let me teach you!” Phog blurted out, louder and more earnest than intended.  It took a second for him to realise his mistake, for the heat to creep behind his ears, for him to shrink back into himself and decide that a splotch of ink on the table was the best place to be looking for the foreseeable future.

 

Yelv stared, wide-eyed, pen hanging slack between his lips, for several long seconds, until he collected himself enough to take the pen out of his mouth and actually put it down on the table.

“Listen, Foggy—” And there it was, the play on Phog’s name that made his shoulders tense up—  “I get it, you’re new to this, but I thought it was…kinda obvious that I’m the one responsible for teachin’ here, not you.”

 

 

It took a fair while for Yelv’s words to penetrate the panicked rushing of thoughts in Phog’s head— _oh my god, that was a mistake, why did I do that, it was obvious he didn’t want to be here, what if he has friends, I mean, of course he has friends, delinquent friends, what if they follow me home, again, I don’t want Frye to have to get involved again_ —but when they did, everything came screeching to a halt, and in the relative silence, Phog looked, _properly_ looked, at Yelv.

He didn’t look angry.  Or scary.  …Okay, a little scary.  And annoyed.  And also…amused?  Phog didn’t think he’d said anything funny.

“W-Wait…what?” Phog managed to say, wonderfully eloquently.

“What?” Yelv parroted.

“Wha—  I mean…why would you…be teaching me?” Phog blinked.  The confusion he felt was masking the anxiety from before, which was kind of welcome, honestly.

Yelv blinked back, brows furrowing together.  “Because I’m your tutor?”

“No…” Phog said slowly.  “I’m _your_ tutor…aren’t I?”

 

They looked at each other for a long moment, until the penny dropped.

“Oh my god, you’re not my student.”

“You’re not my student either, are you?”

 

 

The next sound to echo through the library was Yelv’s howling belly-laugh, earning yet more stares from everyone, and an annoyed shushing from the poor librarian, whom he merely waved in apology to while Phog sank lower in his seat, hoping that maybe if he got far enough down he could get swallowed into the floor altogether.  He was horribly mortified, not just from Yelv drawing attention to them, but from _mistaking a fellow tutor for his assigned student on his first day_!  He'd never live it down!  Even Hope, bless her heart, would definitely laugh at him.  He couldn't tell her.  He couldn't tell  _anyone_.

Yelv, on the other hand, was still trying to stifle sniggers, apparently having a _great_ time.  Phog was a little jealous of his carefree attitude, to be honest.

 

“Welp,” Yelv said, finally recovering enough for coherent speech.  He was leaning forward on his elbows again, and Phog reflexively shrank back.  “I guess we both screwed up.”

“I-I’m so sorry,” Phog mumbled in response, resisting the urge to hide his face in his hands, knowing Yelv was looking at him.  “It’s my first day as a tutor, I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it!  I should’ve said somethin’.  Oh, and don’t worry about your student not showing – happens a lot.  Little shits think they’re above gettin’ _schooled_.”

Phog had to laugh at that, earning a toothy grin from Yelv.  “S-So, um, how did you end up being a tutor…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well, believe it or not, I used to _be_ one of those little shits who bunked off and didn’t care about school.”  Phog thought it would be rude to say he absolutely believed it.  “Got paired up with a tutor.  Kinda like you, actually.  Bit less…quiet, but real nice.  I-I mean, you seem…real nice, I dunno.  _Anyway_ , long story short, he was a decent guy, I got decent grades ’cause’a him, and here I am now.  He…inspired me, I guess.  Is that dumb?”

“N-No, not at all!”  Phog could have sworn Yelv was blushing a little, but it was hard to tell with the light from the windows behind him.

“And you?”

“Oh, um, my friend recommended it to me.  She’s a tutor, too.”

“Elma?”

“El—?  No, Hope…”

“Oh, Hope!  She’s a sweetheart.”

 

Phog nodded, starting to feel awkward again now that the conversation was fizzling out.  Thankfully, Yelv seemed content to take the reins.

“Well, guess we should make tracks,” he announced, pushing his chair back and standing.  “No point hanging around since we both got stood up.”

“Yes,” Phog agreed quietly, mirroring him.

“Same time next week, Foggy?”  Suddenly, the nickname didn’t feel so bad.

“Oh, but I’m not—  we’re not—”

Yelv circled the table in one movement (or at least, it felt like that to Phog.  How did he keep _doing_ that, ending up way too close to him, way too quickly?), and took Phog’s hand, holding it at chest level.  Phog immediately spluttered incoherently and flushed to the roots of his hair at the intimate contact, but Yelv just picked up his forgotten pen and scrawled a chain of numbers on the back of Phog’s hand.  When he let go again, all Phog could think was that his hand was warm, and dry, and like the skin used to be really rough, but had recently been taken better care of.

“I know, but…” Yelv said, voice oddly subdued, like he was… _bashful_ about something.  “Anyway, that’s my number.  Call me sometime, or text me, or…or whatever.  …See ya ’round, maybe?”

 

And then he was gone, seemingly caught between scuttling away and trying to keep a casual gait.  He waved at the same person as before, and this time Phog noticed it was a dark skinned girl with silver-blonde hair.  She didn’t look like a delinquent, at least.

“Foggy!”  Phog’s eyes snapped to Yelv, already standing in the doorway (at least he hadn’t slammed the door open this time).  With the right lighting this time, Phog could see that Yelv _was_ , _absolutely_ , blushing.  “You still need to teach me maths!  ...Don’t forget!”

For the umpteenth time that afternoon, Phog could feel the eyes of the room burning into him, but he felt like his heart was thrumming for a different reason this time.  He nodded, and that was apparently enough; Yelv finally left, followed out by another ignored lecture from the exasperated librarian.

 

Phog stood alone again in the library, feeling confused and excited and still nervous, but good nervous this time, he thought?  The light was starting to dim outside, and the tutors and students were beginning to pack up their things, ready to go home.

 

After a moment, Phog snatched up his bag and ringbinder, and ran after Yelv.

**Author's Note:**

> epilogue: phog catches up to yelv at the gates, yelv is flustered because i TOLD you to call me, omg are you okay you sound like you're about to keel over and die, they walk home together, phog actually talks more, yelv walks for 15 minutes in the wrong direction bc phog lives the opposite way and yelv is too entranced  
> hooray!! they are gay
> 
> bonus useless trivia: the librarian is eleonora
> 
> remember when i could write good fics? me neither


End file.
